The Divergent Games IX: Private Slave
by Renee Belladonna
Summary: fvreghtrhyju


"Renee Belladonna." the intercom called out in a automated female's voice. All the tributes sat in the lobby of the Training Center, well at least, everyone who was left. Abnegation, Amity, Candor, and most of Dauntless had already gone. Cameron and I sat next to each other on the sofa, avoiding eye contact with the five Erudite sitting across from us. But I strayed away from the red head, mainly because she seemed to be staring daggers the whole time we were down here. Normally I would intimidate her back, but I had the feeling she was angry about me for something. Maybe she felt she was downsized at the mental training. Maybe she found out that Nicanor tried to make a move on me. Maybe she didn't like my eye color- I have no idea. But I'm not going to make more enemies than I have to before the Games even begin.

I stood up. Cameron would go after me, being a male from District 11. As they looked at everyone when they went to their private session, the Erudite's eyes followed me- I could feel it. They were always analyzing physical reactions, posture, and to me, it seemed like they were trying to read your mind, which made me most uncomfortable- the fact that my thoughts weren't entirely safe. But obviously no one had that ability, and I was getting paranoid over nothing.

I entered the elevator, a guard already inside. As I turned around to face the door, he pushed the lowest button on the panel and then proceeded to fold his hands in front of him, standing still and quiet. He was stern and hard like a statue. I wondered if he liked doing this job, if he enjoyed being a slave of the Summit.

We came to the underground floor much sooner than I wanted. When I didn't leave the elevator right away, the guard put his hand on my back in an effort to push me out. Before he could, my instincts took over. I didn't like being touched by strangers. That was definite, but I didn't mean to do the thing I did.

I twisted around and grabbed his wrist with both hands, bending it around. He grunted in pain, but I let go before I could swing his arm behind his back and break it, I stopped myself. My eyes widened and I let go, jogging backwards for a moment before turning forwards and running to the doors of the Training Room. I was too on edge today. Too wired. What was in my cider this morning?

I tried to walk in the room as leisurely and nonchalantly as possible, not wanting to set any suspicions of the Gamemakers. But of course they already had their eyes on me, because of mental training. They all sat quietly, facing forward and watching me intently. A few were whispering to each other, but I almost praised them. I didn't want to be inspected this closely.

I held my arms at my sides, clenching and freeing my fists. I breathed in and out through my mouth, staring back at the several older men and some women who sat politely but sternly. "My name is Renee Belladonna, age fourteen, Dauntless." I called out, but of course they already knew my name. Introduction was simply a formal requirement. I stood there for a moment before shaking the many jumbled thoughts out of my mind and glancing around the room at the various weapons and dummies for sparring. Swords, bows, spears, clubs, knives, slingshots, whips. Everything seemed almost unrealistic, how there was so many things here that I didn't even existed. So many torture weapons.

I shook my head again and walked over to the swords. They must have been expecting this of me, but I thought nothing of it. I grabbed and put back different swords until I had one that felt well balanced and weighted in my hand. I then made my way over to the rubber, plastic and cushioned synthetic people, and, standing about a foot or two away from one, extended my arm to it's neck, the sword tip pressing against where an Adams apple would be. I could not fail. I could not let weakness show in a time to display strength, personal strength.

With one swift move, I swung the sword up in the air as I took a step back, and then sliced it across both knees. Buckled, on the ground, struggling to stand.

Sword up higher, but not too high. With a downward movement, I cut through the right arm of the dummy at the elbow. Weapon arm, gone. Going to bleed out if left alone. But I wouldn't let them suffer. I'm not that cruel.

Sword up even higher. Twirl around and swing- blade penetrating where the jugular vein of the neck would be. Slice through. Beheaded. Dead.

Every move seemed automatic. Every move almost seemed planned out, or orchestrated, as if someone was controlling me like a puppet. Maybe that's just the way I fought, and I hadn't realized it yet. Maybe I had unlocked a new, even more emotionless side of me to fight better with.

I glanced back up at the Gamemakers, and some nodded, and most others look unimpressed. Of course they did. They'd seen tricks like this and better many times before. It's time for something else.

I left the decapitated dummy and placed my sword back on the rack. For a second, I stood still, almost glaring at the blades before me. No more swords, I would have to try something else. I turned away and walked over to the knife section. Most of them were throwing knives, but there were a few daggers made of different materials. I skimmed my hand over the smooth sides, stroking my fingers across the sharp edges at times. Finally, I came to one that was long, smooth with silver, showing my reflection. I ignored it. I had become paler with stress and my eyes had seemed to sunk in a little the past few days. The handle was black leather, and it felt heavy in my hand, but comfortable. I picked it up and turned back towards the Gamemakers. I held it up for them to see, to see that I was going to try one more time to give me a higher ranking.

I walked back to the dummies, but on my way there, i realized something. I didn't want a higher ranking. i didn't want to be involved in this at all. I didn't care what anyone thought of me, especially the Gamemakers, or that red head, or Nicanor, or even Cameron or Blake. I wasn't their toy to do tricks for bones. I wasn't theirs to manipulate. I showed that in mental training, and I'm going to show it again.

My eyes met with that of the Gamemaker's, and they narrowed, turning into a grimace, a scowl, everything to show them my irritation with the way they tried to control teenagers and then kill them for their own enjoyment.

"My name is Renee Belladonna." I said in a low voice, just barely audible. I wondered if they even heard me, but I didn't care. I said it for my own sanity. I love you mother. I love you Kelli. I love you Tyson. "And I am not your slave." and with that, some of the Gamemaker's saw my next move coming, because their eyes widened and their jaws dropped as I took the dagger in both hands and drove it into my stomach, immediately feeling the blood trickle out, my vision going black with the searing and throbbing pain.

I love you mother. I love you Kelli. I love you Tyson.

** End**

** Chapter 9**

** Divergent Games**


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